I’m not sure what comes first….the depression or the binging. Do I binge because I’m depressed or do I get depressed because I binge? Either way, this has been my painful reality for quite some time. I can remember as far back as childhood purposely eating so much food at one time that I felt sick. But, then and now, the pain does not go away. It may subside briefly, but it’s always there.

My car has become my haven for my dysfunction. I often go to drive-thru’s alone and then I make sure that I trash my receipts and bags before anyone can see how much food I consume at one time. Ironic, isn’t it? As if people can’t tell that I have food issues by looking at me. Almost comical. Almost.

With food addiction, the after effects are obvious to everyone. With drugs and alcohol, that isn’t always the case. I could never imagine putting a needle in my arm or drinking beyond consciousness, yet I am a junkie of another kind. I find my solace in food. I self-medicate and deal with my emotions with a more “socially-acceptable” drug.

Sometimes I think that maybe I should be grateful….. grateful that my stronghold is not catastrophic….but it is. It’s destroying my heart, literally. It consumes me. It has taken over my body. My self-loathing thoughts never cease. I have been spiraling into darkness for a long time.

Like I said earlier, I am ready for a change. I need a change. My life depends on it.